Just Desserts
by Britani Gael
Summary: Bakura is walking home after dark, when he runs into a crook. Things are looking pretty bad for him, when he gets help from an unexpected source.


Title: Just Desserts

Author: Britani Gael

Genre: Angst

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Bakura is walking home after dark, when he runs into a crook. Things are looking pretty bad for him, when he gets help from an unexpected source. 

"You know, little kids shouldn't be alone after dark."

The hand had come up behind him, and grabbed him by his hair. Bakura tried to yell, but another hand clamped over his mouth. 

"Oh, no need to cry, little girl," a voice hissed in his ear. "I just want your money and your things, and then I'll be on my way."

Bakura started to struggle, but there wasn't much point. The guy, whoever he was, was probably about twice his size and outweighed him by at least three times. He didn't have much of a chance at all.

He was hauled off his feet and into the alley behind them, where the robbery could continue without the chance of witnesses. The guy holding him threw him against the wall. He tried to yell again, but the man slapped him. He could taste blood in his mouth, and could feel it dribbling down his face.

He fell to his knees at the man's feet, silent. And helpless.

"So," the man said, louder now, but still keeping his voice down. "What do you got?"

"I-I don't have any –"

"Yeah, right."

It was true, he didn't have any money. And he didn't have anything of any value on him. But the thief wasn't going to believe him.

He grabbed Bakura by the front of his shirt, and hauled him up to his feet again. "You don't got anything."

"No, I don't –"

He didn't slap Bakura that time, he all out punched him in the face. Bakura slumped, but the man still had hold of his shirt, and stopped him from falling.

"I'm gonna ask again," he said slowly. "Do you got anything, or don't ya?"

"Please," Bakura pleaded. "I don't –"

He hit him again, and this time Bakura's shirt ripped, and he fell to the ground again.

But not before the man saw what he was wearing under his shirt.

The thief pulled Bakura up, this time by the rope he wore around his neck. He pulled out the Millenium Ring from under his shirt, before Bakura could make a move to stop him.

"This is nothing?" he asked incredulously. "You call this nothing? Must be made of solid gold …" He grabbed the Ring, and tried to yank it off his neck.

Suddenly, the man yelped. He jerked back several feet, clutching his hand. The Ring fell back to Bakura's chest.

"Shit. Shocked me," he muttered. "Damn thing just zapped me." He scowled at Bakura. "You little –"

"No," said Bakura, weakly. "I didn't –"

Too late.

The man's fist hit him soundly in the face. The force knocked Bakura back, and his head connected with the brick wall behind him.

Bakura's vision went blurry, then it went dark. He collapsed to the ground, out cold.

* * *

Rafe snarled to himself. The kid collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Served the little brat right, for that little … trick he had pulled with his necklace. That kid would get what was coming to him, right after the gold was in Rafe's pocket.

He reached down to rip the necklace right off of the kid's throat. But as his hand neared, it started to glow.

Rafe jerked his hand away, wary of another shock. And here he thought the kid was out.

He landed a kick in the kid's stomach. The kid cringed, but didn't say anything. Pleased, Rafe kicked him again.

This time the kid caught the kick. Rafe stood there for a second, with one foot in the kid's hands, then the kid yanked it out from under him.

Rafe fell on his back. It might have hurt if he wasn't so pissed. He scrambled back to his feet. In that time, the kid had done the same.

The kid looked the same, but his expression had changed. Instead of cowering, he was smirking. His eyes were sharper, and they burned with fury. If he didn't know better, Rafe might have thought he was looking at a different person altogether.

"Hey, listen kid, I ain't playing games," Rafe snapped.

"Good. That isn't my department," the kid said, coldly.

The remark paused Rafe. But only for a second. "Look. Just gimme the necklace, and I'll just get outta here."

The kid shook his head slowly. "As appealing as your offer is, I'm afraid that this ring has sentimental value to me."

"Okay, fine, you little punk. I'll just hafta get it from ya, then." He rushed the kid, hoping to pin him against the wall and beat the living shit out of him.

The kid stepped out of the way, and managed to snag his arm. He gripped it with surprising strength. He twisted it painfully behind Rafe's back. He gritted his teeth in pain.

"You know," said the boy. "If I was feeling nice, I might let you go." Then he gave his arm an extra twist. "But I rarely feel nice. Unfortunate for you."

The kid jerked his arm again, and Rafe heard a snap. A loud snap. He screamed.

The kid dropped him. "Oh, shut up. No one can hear you." Rafe fell to the ground, and the kid kicked him.

"Little lesson I've learned." The kid crouched down in front of him. "Be wary of picking on people who seem smaller and weaker than yourself. Occasionally, they can be more than they seem."

Rafe whimpered.

"But it looks like you learned that the hard way. And too late." He laid a hand on Rafe's forehead. "Goodbye."

The alley flashed with a bright light. Rafe didn't know much after that.

* * *

Bakura woke up in an alley.

What had happened?

His face was aching. He touched it, and found a mess of dried blood. He looked down. More blood had dripped down to his short, which was ripped open in several places. He could see a few massive bruises on his chest. 

And sitting on his chest, gleaming, was the Millenium Ring.

So, what had happened?

He must have hit his head, or something.

He was at the arcade. He had had to go home, but no one else had wanted to leave, so he had left on his own. Homework to do, or something. That had been about eight o'clock, maybe. It was nearly dawn now. Had anyone missed him?

Probably not.

Someone had jumped him. Tried to take his Ring. The man had hit him. More than once. That was all that he remembered.

God, he hurt everywhere. He sat up, leaning against the wall. He drew his knees against his chest. He didn't feel like leaving. 

He'd never gotten a look at the guy's face. He could've been anyone. Even if Bakura called the police, there was nothing they could do. No, he wouldn't tell anyone. His father was gone, and his friends would just get upset. Or maybe they wouldn't.

He wouldn't even go to school. No one there would care. And even if someone did decided to check up on him, they would just assume that his Yami had struck again. Whatever. Let them think whatever they wanted. It didn't matter. They wouldn't check up on him anyway.

They were only his friends because they felt sorry for him. They couldn't really be his friends. No one could. His Yami was too dangerous. To them and to him.

A few tears trailed their way down his cheeks. He angrily wiped them away.

He stood up, hoping to make it there before it got to bright, and before people were walking about. He stepped into the street. Funny, he was only a few blocks away from home. He had thought he had been a lot further.

He started walking home.

He kept his face down, so that if anyone happened by, they wouldn't see how beaten he really was. They would ask questions. They would demand answers. They wouldn't understand that he didn't care. He didn't give a damn what happened to him. They wouldn't understand at all.

He was different than most people, from everyone he knew. And he knew it. And he knew why.

He knew what it was really like, to be alone.

* * *


End file.
